Brandy's death left the base shaken. For something like this to happen, here of all places, it was unsettling. With no final words, there wasn't any definitive way to know for sure exactly why he chose to take his own life. The mystery presented a host of speculation from the rumor mill, guesses and assertions about him. Contradictions mainly. There were warning signs. There weren't any. Brandy tried to reach out. Brandy didn't try. He was depressed. He was getting better...

Reviewing all the photographs of the scene and the Sergeant's file, Ghost's windpipe constricted. There wasn't any doubt that this was a suicide. The pistol was in his hand, and every detail of the scene was consistent with him having shot himself and collapsing. His body was packed and sent back to his parents in the States. His files were unhelpful. MacTavish had said it in the past, the kid was unremarkable. He flew under the radar, lacked presence, and was often times easily overlooked. The only thing Ghost was able to glean from it was that his father was a Major.

In an effort to retrace the medic's steps that day, he went through security footage, compiled a list of people he came in contact with that day, and started interviewing. Though he didn't want to, he went to Doc first.

"No, nothing he did that day struck me as out of the ordinary," Doc told him. The buttons of his uniform weren't aligned properly and his reddened eyes hinted that he must've been crying recently. "Brandy reported in, went to check on Scarab like he'd been doing all week, and came back. It was quiet that day, so I let him take over the infirmary after that and told him to call me if anything serious came up."

"And nothing did," Ghost deduced.

"Nothing important." Doc rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Apparently only two people came in, and he filed reports on treatment for them."

Ghost lifted his chin. "Mind if I see them?"

"Sure. I already looked 'em over." Doc got up from his chair and rooted through the filing cabinet to pull out two papers and passed them to the lieutenant. "Bearcat came in around 17:00 with a cut on his arm he got while fixing one of the trucks. The other one-"

"Was General Shepherd." Ghost scanned over the document. At 19:34, he came in because of back pain. According to the report, it was just a strained muscle, so he gave the General two Motrin and sent him on his way. "Wait a tick, I already knew the General went in, but the security footage showed that he stayed for half an hour."

"I guess the General stuck around to chat with him. He's close friends with Brandy's father, you know."

"Really?" This was news. Ghost passed the files back to Doc and stood up. "Then by that logic, he and Brandy were probably on familiar terms. Thanks, I'll talk to him."

Ghost had figured that General Shepherd would be reluctant to discuss the subject, but he was remarkably open about it. "Major Brandy and I have been friends for almost as long as I've been in the service. Sergeant Brandy... Ian was like a nephew to me."

"I'm sure this must hit you pretty hard then, sir."

General Shepherd sighed. "It does."

"If you don't mind me asking, you spoke with him when you went into the infirmary that night. What did the two of you talk about?"

"We were just catching up. He wanted to know what I'd been up to. I asked him how he felt in the Task Force, and he admitted to feeling inadequate compared to everyone around him." The General looked Ghost dead in the eye and continued, "In some ways, I'm responsible for Ian's death. I pushed him here and thought he'd rise to meet the challenge. I was wrong."

"Don't be too hard on yourself. The lot of us were with him day to day and didn't see this coming." It was all he could say.

In all of MacTavish's thirty years, he never exactly liked the phrase 'opening a can of worms.' In his mind, if it was a problem, it should be pointed out so that something could be done about it. Nothing can be fixed if everyone "ignored" the issue, right? Right.

He vastly underestimated this particular can, however.

The intention was to talk Scarab down from the outlandish concept of General Shepherd being a traitor. He gave her a day to rest and hoped that a night of sleep would have gotten her to some semblance of normality. When he knocked and she answered, however, he was met with an entirely different reality. Scarab somehow looked worse than before. Her hair was unkempt and tangled. Her eyes were lightless, yet sharp with aggression. Behind her, scattered about on one of the beds were torn out papers from a spiral notebook and a collection of pens and markers. Crumbled sheets littered the floor and a few sticky notes with sloppy writing dotted that wall.

...Was she starting a conspiracy wall in here?

MacTavish pretended not to notice. "Hello, Scarab. Have you been resting?"

The answer was a slow, drawn out blink, as if to say "Does it look like I have?"

"I'll take that as a no," he said. For reasons he couldn't quite explain, all his hair stood on end. This felt less like a dorm and more like a mine field. "I should leave you be then-"

"What's this about, Captain?" Scarab questioned. Her nails started to dig into the wood.

In all the months he'd worked with this woman, he never saw her with quite the murderous glint in her eyes she had now. This went beyond a person suffering from extreme exhaustion. If there was a landmine in this room, it was her. If they were going to get anywhere though, he needed to step on it. "I wanted to speak with you about your outburst the other night, but if you're still exhausted, it can wait."

"I'm fine," she claimed. "Go ahead. Am I getting punished for stepping out of line and accusing the General of betrayal?"

"Not exactly. General Shepherd was very understanding about the whole situation, especially after he heard about your current condition-"

"My current condition? Captain, I feel fine. Better than I have all week."

Her physical appearance begged to differ. MacTavish tried to disregard her interruption. "The point is, he and I both believe you're just not in a good state of mind at the moment. I didn't confine you to quarters as a punishment. It's just so you can get some sleep."

Scarab's head turned down, casting eerie shadows from her brow line over her eyes. "... If that was the case, then why do I need to see a councilor?"

"Simple. It's just to make sure you're okay to resume your duties. We're not against you, despite how this must feel on your end."

"You say that, but you took his side without any question!" She snapped and stormed into her room.

Ah. There was the landmine. MacTavish didn't flinch. "Scarab, settle-"

"Don't tell me to settle down!" She grabbed the pillow off her bed and whipped the damn thing at his face with just enough force that it slightly hurt. "He's suspicious! Why can't you see that?"

He picked up the pillow from the floor and came in to replace it on her bed. "What would you like me to say? There's no evidence that there was a note. You're asking me to accuse my CO of tampering with a scene with zero basis."

"Then what do you know?!"

"You thought you saw a note, Scarab. You yourself said that you didn't read it. That's what I know." He took a deep breath and went to leave. "Just think about that, alright?" Tempting as it was, he didn't slam the door shut. he couldn't afford to get mad and further isolate her.

If he had to guess, Scarab got to a point where she lost so much sleep that she simply couldn't. Whether or not that was a real thing, he wasn't totally sure, but he decided to talk to Doc about it. What he didn't expect was not even two hours after he brought this up, the medic came into his office nervously and planted a single treatment form on his desk.

"You gave her a sleep aid?" MacTavish inquired, studying the queer expression that painted Doc's face.

His discomfort visibly grew. "Yes, sir. I, um, I slipped it in with her antibiotic without telling her."

Was it underhanded? Yes. Could it land Doc in serious trouble if it was ever brought up? Probably. Did MacTavish feel like it was necessary at that point? 100%. MacTavish promptly threw the file in the shredder. "This doesn't leave this room."

Doc stood stock stiff and took several seconds before he found the voice to respond. "Y-yes, sir."

Evidently, the single pill was all she needed. Scarab slept through that day on it and then the next without needing a second dose. It was welcome news. After three days of rest time, all that was left was for the company's councilor to take a look at her. If she was in a better head space, then this whole ordeal would be over. If not, then he feared how she'd react to being told she needed to take more time off.

MacTavish hadn't seen or spoken to her since the short argument, so he had no context about what she looked like now after her two day hibernation. Imagine his surprise when Dr. Joyce gave her the green light with a single notation that she was suffering from over exhaustion.

"Really? That's all it was?" He asked.

Dr. Joyce nodded. "Don't get me wrong, Brandy's death has her rattled. It has everyone rattled. When I spoke to her today, she seemed tired, but not paranoid at this point. I think what happened that night was an isolated episode, Captain MacTavish."

An explosive one at that. "Did... she mention anything about a note to you?"

The councilor locked his hands behind his back. "She did. Said that she was sure she saw it at the time, but figured she was probably mistaken."

Problem solved. At least, that should have been, so why did he have this sick feeling that this was far from over? He left to take all this and relay it to Ghost. His Second was much better at sifting through this sort of information than he was.

Finding the lieutenant turned out to be a harder task than he expected. All the usual spots were vacant and nobody had seen him for half the day. He found Ghost in the rec room, attentively reading over a file that evening. MacTavish sat beside him on the sofa. "You know, there are better places for desk work, mate."

"Didn't know if you needed your desk today." Ghost hadn't taken his eyes off the page. "Did you need something, MacTavish?"

He took that prompting as a chance to tell Ghost about all this nonsense on his end, glazing over Doc sneaking a sleeping pill of course. Despite being absorbed in paperwork, he had the courtesy to nod along. Somewhere over the course of storytelling, they shifted so that Ghost was resting his back against MacTavish's chest with the Captain's chin propped on his head.

"Would you relax? It's past curfew, nobody's coming in here." Ghost flipped the paper he'd been reading over. "You're the worst pillow..."

This was also a public space. He supposed Ghost had a point and tried to ease up a little. "Aren't your eyes sore after reading that same file all day?"

"Somebody has to."

MacTavish wrapped his arms around Ghost and sighed. "I don't think the answer's in his file."

Ghost's hand clenched the folder, causing it and the 2 cm thick stack of papers to bend. "It has to be."

"I know you want one. We all do." MacTavish hugged him tighter. "But you've upturned every stone. Maybe something will come up later, but right now, you're just burning yourself out."

A couple small patters hit the paper, leaving wet stains in the middle of a paragraph. Ghost took a sharp breath.

As gently as he could, MacTavish worked Ghost's hand off the folder and shut it, setting it aside on the coffee table. "Talk to me."

"..."

"Simon, please."

"We've got a social lot, but somehow Brandy fell through the cracks." Ghost took off his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes. "It took him killing himself for any of us to start listening. It's sick."

Back when Ghost had joined the Task Force, he'd been quiet too. It was little wonder why this was affecting him so much. At its core though, there was a fundamental difference. Ghost was reserved partly because he was introverted and partly due to recent trauma. Sure, it took time, but once he warmed up to everyone, he stopped isolating himself and talked about his problems. Brandy came across as more anxious and socially awkward. Maybe he wanted to be with other people but struggled to reach out.

"Maybe we all could've tried harder with him," MacTavish said softly. "This isn't something you should beat yourself up over though."

"'suppose not... I actually talked to General Shepherd yesterday. He wanted to gather everyone up on the green before he leaves in a couple of days, observe a moment of silence for Brandy and give everyone the rest of the day off."

MacTavish felt a growing knot of tension in his temples. "Oddly generous, coming from the same man who only ever approves half the base for a holiday off at a time."

"I think it's what everyone needs right now."

"I agree with you, it's just a little amazing coming from Shepherd of all people."

It was the final day of July, and the last thing Roach wanted was to be standing out in the field late morning listening to General Shepherd talk to the company. Nothing against the man, it just felt like this moment of silence was coming a little late. He understood that part of the delay came in the long investigation process. He also knew that a different, more hushed part of the delay was because of Scarab's outburst. If he had to guess (and if Royce's hunch was correct), the General was probably keeping a low profile on base the last number of days to let that whole thing settle.

To Shepherd's credit, his speech was mercifully brief. They even got the day off afterwards.

He got to enjoy it for all of about three minutes before he watched Scarab march straight towards the General. He wasn't there for the outburst itself, but the story he heard from Meat made it sound ugly. Fearing the worst, Roach fell in step beside her in case she did anything reckless.

General Shepherd looked puzzled by the pair of them approaching, but he didn't move away. "Can I help you, Sergeant Sanderson, Private Macey?"

Scarab glanced over her shoulder at him, completely nonplussed at the realization that he followed her. She shook herself and turned her attention square on the General. "I wanted to apologize, sir. I spoke out of line before."

Roach exhaled the breath he'd been holding.

"Apology accepted."

"I'm sure you understand how I jumped to that conclusion, though. If there was a note, you and I are the only two with the opportunity to get rid of it."

The Sergeant nearly choked. Was this woman sane? Seriously? She lost the first time and she planned on chancing this AGAIN?! "Scarab, that's not-"

Before he could stumble out some feeble attempt at chastising her, General Shepherd cut him off with a barking laugh. Since when did this guy ever laugh? "You're stubborn, I'll give you that, Private. I'll play your game this time. Tell me, do you know why, even if I had the opportunity and means to get rid of this note, it couldn't have been me?"

"No. Why?"

"Because, believe it or not, Sergeant Brandy's father is close friend of mine. Why would I erase the final words of my friend's only son?" General Shepherd was barely taller than Scarab, yet in this moment he felt as though he towered over her. "So, even though I had the opportunity, I had no reason to do so. Your theory falls short."

Amazingly, Scarab actually smiled. "You got me there, sir. You're right. I don't know why."

Everyone in the 141 was crazy... Roach was sure of it now. "I'm sure the General has things to do, Scarab. Let's go."

Thank god, she came willingly. Neither of them seemed even remotely bothered by the interaction either. How was it that she got away with labeling Shepherd a traitor and then pushing that button again?

It just didn't make sense.

"Scarab, are you crazy?" Roach questioned.

"Maybe I am. I'm in a weird predicament, Roach." Scarab rubbed her chin in thought. "I know I was severely sleep deprived at the time, but I can't shake the possibility that the suicide note existed. It felt real enough. There's no proof that it wasn't there. He said he was smoking when he heard the gun shot, so in theory, he could've burned it, but there's no way of confirming that. Plus, I don't have a motive that I can prove either."

Roach groaned. How the hell could he talk this much crazy down? She was talking like someone out of an Ace Attorney game. The difference was that this wasn't one of those outlandish cases. "You know, there's a good reason they don't make cases on based on speculation."

"This isn't speculation. I saw that note," Scarab insisted. "It's just... I'm the only one who did apparently."

Ordinarily, the rational argument would have been that if the note had been touched in any way, it would've appeared on the security footage. The camera in the armory snapped photos with a motion sensor every half minute it catches movement. He heard from Ghost that while there were three photos of Brandy breaking into the room, walking around, and loading the gun, there were no photos after that. When he shot himself, blood got on the sensor and the camera stopped snapping pictures. "If, and this is a very strong if, he did leave a note, he would've had to have placed that within thirty seconds of his death because it's not shown on the security footage either."

"For a two page note? That'd suggest premeditation." She pressed her lips into a thin line.

"Yes, if there was a note," Roach retorted. "My point is there's no proof that it existed. It's only your word. You might not want to admit it, but the easiest and most likely answer is that you imagined it."

Scarab scoffed. "It's the easiest solution for everyone else."

{—To Be Continued—

Summary of Plan B Chapters 15b and 16

15b. Soap visits, they fight.
16. Shepherd has Scarab's memories erased. She is returned, remembers shit within a day. Shepherd threatens her, then shoots her. She's found and tended to.

A/N: If the summary of the chapters this one came from don't make it clear enough, the source material was some special kinda cursed content. I don't know what Younger Me was thinking, but in Plan B Chapter 16, I introduced a plot device called a mind probe. You plug a fucking wire on someone's head and then you can view and delete memories (and later do some coding so someone can have PTSD triggers, apparently). To my own credit, the characters do get a lot of mileage out of this stupid thing. It's kinda laughable, tbh.

The plot device was stupid though, so I've been sitting here for three chapters scratching my head trying to write it out. Ultimately, it really does come down to extreme exhaustion being the answer. It's interesting how this chapter ends up mirroring the source material, specifically with how Scarab was supposed to fall unconscious upon losing memories and wake up back on base with no recollection of her earlier freak out. That became Doc's sleep pill.
However, since Scarab's supposed to end up remembering anyways, in this case it's a matter of her simply not dropping the issue.